


you've got me on my back and now i've gotta think fast

by but_seriously



Series: a statement for the masses [2]
Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24685879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/but_seriously/pseuds/but_seriously
Summary: “I’ll call you back,” he shouts into the mouthpiece. “I’m about to get away with murder.”
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: a statement for the masses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784782
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	you've got me on my back and now i've gotta think fast

**Author's Note:**

> posted a few months ago on my tumblr, then i thought what the heck. just a little side-adventure post-[all those friendly people](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579229/chapters/3353387) a.k.a. [RIVAL MUSICIANS AU TBH](http://highgaarden.tumblr.com/tagged/rival%20musicians%20au%20tbh); i love this universe way too much to leave them alone for long. their lives are just so damned interesting.
> 
> click on the link for mini stories, graphics, and amazing gifs created by amazing people for this fic.
> 
> the particular gif in this one was made by the lovely 

**you've got me on my back and now i've gotta think fast;**

i. 

He hates this fucking place. The bass is too loud, the pitch is all _wrong;_ his eardrums are snarling to leave. He hates this place and everyone haunting it: shoulders his way into the crowd and winces as light pierces into his gaze in strobing red-yellow-blue.

Something in his pocket vibrates. His attention is displaced with a single momentary step, when his foot hits the ground he is back. He taps ‘answer’ as soon as his fingers find the flat slab of a phone, and he hopes he doesn’t sound breathless when he says, “Hello, love.”

“ _Yow_. That’s—really loud,” he barely hears through the thrumming music. More bodies surge into him like a violent surf, and he bares his teeth in a suppressed snarl. He is going to _skin_ Kol.

“I’ll call you back,” he shouts into the mouthpiece. “I’m about to get away with murder.”

“Kl—?”

He apologizes as loud as he can before he kills the line. He knows she will be upset at him, it’s around quarter to twelve after all. Her declared _favourite time of the entire March_.

With that thought he finds himself missing her very terribly.

 _Fuck_ Kol.

Forcing himself through the gyrating, gesticulating, gerridae of the club he finally makes his way to the DJ stand. He studies the mess of wiring for only a second before seizing the entire thing in his arms and yanking as hard as can.

It doesn’t quite rip out of the socket of the wall like he’d imagined (hoped), but it does make the music and some of the pyrotechnics splutter and die. Perfect for him to gather air in his lungs and bellow out his barely-suppressed rage: “ _KOOOOLLLL.”_

As if on cue, the spotlights swing to a corner of the room, where a startled looking Kol is about to slide his precious songbook across the table into a sour-looking Damon Salvatore.

ii.

“They were terrible, Nik,” Kol presses for the sixth time. “ _Really_ terrible! I was doing _you_ a favour; Salvatore would’ve just made off with them thinking he’d sprung himself a hit—alas, no such luck, because your songs were _ter_ ribl _—why do you have a knife, Nik?”_

iii.

“Maybe if you agreed to a camera interview they wouldn’t take so much of what you say out of context,” Caroline says, but there’s a light teasing in her voice. Not for the first time, he wishes she were lying next to him.

“They keep…” he clears his throat and slides his gaze away from the screen, “asking about you. It’s much easier to hang up as opposed to physically removing myself from a press room.”

Caroline hums lowly as she mulls this over. Klaus, done with his work, crumples it up before scooping his phone into his palms, bringing it to bed with him.

“Wash your hands, Klaus,” she says when she sees him settled against his pillows. He smiles. “I bet you have ink all over them.”

He inspects the black splotch on his thumb. “Seems you’re right, sweetheart.”

“Getting predictable, Mikaelson.” But Caroline smiles back. She looks tired, she’s washing off the last of her stage makeup; she’d called him as soon as she’d stumbled into her hotel room most likely, the sanctity of her dressing room would’ve been too stuffed a room to warrant their one and only luxury of phone-call of the night. He can see Rebekah rolling her eyes in the background before slamming out of the room.

“Has she been pleasant?” he asks.

“Not in the slightest,” Caroline responds with a minute eyeroll. “But that’s your sister we know and love.”

“Soon to be your sister, too,” he reminds her. Reproachful? Who, him? He keeps his gaze clean of emotion nevertheless.

“I haven’t said yes yet, Klaus,” Caroline mumbles.

“I’m really enjoying your use of _yet_ here,” he grins suggestively. “I’ve still got some fight in me.”

She laughs softly, but he can tell she’s exhausted. She’s snuggled down into her own bed as well, the light from the Skype call illuminating her face. She looks viciously bright against the darkness of her room. He used to massage her feet on nights like this, when she was just a short jet away.

“Good night.” And because he can’t help himself, he adds a murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you t…” She only manages the half-syllable of the word before she drifts off into sleep. Her fingers hide half her face from him, the way she’s lying on her side. But he has the full view of her tumbling, trailing curls.

It takes him some time to end the call.

iv.

In April, Caroline declares her favourite time of the day to be _1.20AM._ It’s getting later, and she’s calculated the exact time she would still be awake enough to call him, and he would finally be free of Finn’s mournful requests, which involved a lot of shoving-in-his-face of Louder Than Bells’ tour success rates.

Unfortunately, it’s just fresh of him hanging up on her the night before. She’s critical of him when he Facetimes her, her head hanging almost upside down the side of her bed. There’s a bump on her forehead. He’d read the Google Alerts: One of the dancers had missed his footing and had stumbled into her, causing her to fall offstage. She’s in an awful mood.

“First of all, I’m very sorry,” he apologizes, sincerely meaning it.

“Okay,” she huffs.

His eyebrows shoot up.

She scuffs him a _look_. “Let’s not harp on it?”

He pulls his lips down, swallows his grin. “At least I’ve got a reason for hanging up so abruptly. Kol was about to sell my songs to _Damon Salvatore_.”

“Were they bad?”

Klaus scowls. “Why not ask _were they good_?”

“Because you’ve been a little bit too in love with me lately, and we _all_ know what it does to your creative process.”

“True that,” he says sorrowfully. “I do so get distracted with my head between your legs.”

It’s almost instantaneous. Caroline blows air slowly between her teeth. “We _just_ did this a few nights ago.”

“So?” he cocks a brow. “Tell me you don’t delight in it.”

“Well, I’d be lying, and that’s bad vibes for this tour,” Caroline admits begrudgingly, but still tips her head, hair falling off her shoulder onto her back. Her neck is bared, and Klaus licks his lips.


End file.
